


Whatever You Want

by fictocriticism



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Multi, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictocriticism/pseuds/fictocriticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris raises an eyebrow. “Now now,” he says, “I’ll take good care of you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever You Want

Grant’s first day on set mostly passes in a blur. It’s “Uptown Girl” - the smaller scenes are scheduled for the following day. Grant has already met the Warblers during rehearsal and choreography so he watches in learned bemusement as Riker stretches as a warm up and Curt stands on his own taking deep breaths. 

  
The shoot itself passes quickly. They run the blocking a couple of times in costume to get the cameras right and then Darren shows up.    
  
Darren immediately say hello, and his enthusiasm leaks out of his pores. He’s excited and energetic, immediately clasping hands and patting backs with the other boys in blazers. He longingly strokes the collar on Dom’s Dalton blazer and the other boys tease him mercilessly.    
  
It’s fun and adorable, if Grant’s being honest. He thrills quietly when Darren calls him over for a chat with the cameras behind the scenes. It’s mock punches and smiles until his cheeks hurt.    
  
But it gets harder when he pulls Darren, no _Blaine_ , into the shot over and over, grabbing his hands and playfully smirking. It’s all Sebastian, Grant doesn’t play his hand so obviously, but it’s difficult to ignore the spark in his eyes and the way he licks over his lips. It’s the easiest time Grant’s had of slipping into a character, feeling the motivation of just _wanting_.    
  
He doesn’t think he’s imagining it when he feels a jolt as they shake hands on take number three. Darren’s face doesn’t change, all Blaine Anderson from head to toe. Grant’s only realises afterwards that he’s spent all day tensing his jaw.    
  
That night, he gets a call from his mum and his brother. He lies on his couch and takes a photo of his feet.    
  
  
***   
  
  
Chris corners him the next day and Grant wants to duck behind a trailer until he passes but he suspects he should be polite.    
  
Chris smiles wide and open and Grant feels his body respond instinctively, shoulders flattening as he grins back.    
  
“Grant! Nice to meet you,” Chris says and stick his hand out.    
  
Grant takes it, reminding himself to let go after a suitable amount of time, and breathes as quietly as he can.    
  
“You too,” he says, nice and calm. And then, “I’m _super_ nervous about working together,” comes falling out of his mouth without any direction from his brain.    
  
Chris raises an eyebrow. “Now now,” he says, “I’ll take good care of you.”   
  
And then he’s gone, arms swinging slightly as he strides away.    
  
Grant runs a finger over his traitorous lips and wonders when he became so _uncool_.    
  
  
***   
  
  
Their scene that day is in the Lima Bean. Sebastian’s fawning obviously all over Blaine, and then Kurt comes in to assert his claim. It should be fun. Grant’s obsessively learnt his lines, drawled them over and over in the mirror, quirking his lips just so. There is something satisfying about playing a villain.    
  
They’re seated at the table, just Darren and Grant, for a little while as they set up the cameras again. Grant can’t help watching what’s going on, not used to television yet and the idea of playbacks and cuts. He just hopes he can keep his rhythm.    
  
“Nervous?” Darren asks.    
  
Grant grins tightly, cheeks stretching, and it’s apparently obvious enough because Darren’s leaning in, and Grant’s automatically moving to meet him when Darren pats his hand, and says, “At least you’re not wearing this sweater.”    
  
Grant chuckles, breathes in a tiny whiff of Darren’s scent, and thinks _I’m fucked_.    
  
  
***   
  
  
It doesn’t get any easier once Chris is there, resplendent because or in spite of whatever Kurt’s outfit is supposed to be.    
  
Chris and Darren break character easily between takes, chatting comfortably about stuff happening on set, their friends, things they’ve been reading. Grant can’t really keep up with their conversation, plus he’s just trying to hold onto his snarky attitude so it doesn’t evaporate in the wake of his steadily building attraction to these two men in front of him.    
  
_ Kurt and Blaine _ , he thinks, over and over. _Kurt and Blaine_.    
  
Darren glances up then and Chris’ gaze follows instinctively; they move in sync and it’s disgusting, really, not gorgeous, not adorable, not _anything_.    
  
Grant fiddles with his collar, fingers smoothing down the piping and Darren catches the movement.    
  
“I miss the blazer,” he says, head propped up on his hand as he looks longingly across the table at him.    
  
Grant smirks over the heady rush of blood thrumming in his veins.    
  
Chris smooths a hand over Darren’s arm and says “Poor Blainers.”   
  
Darren’s answering smile is so warm it nearly burns a hole through Grant’s chest.    
  
  
***   
  
  
Grant spends the night in his apartment folding laundry and rewatching season one of Glee. He’s up to Preggers when his phone rings. It’s Chris.    
  
“Day one over, yeah?”   
  
“Yeah,” Grant sighs. “I don’t know if I’m more or less nervous for tomorrow now.”   
  
Chris laughs, his tinkling, addictive laugh and Grant’s smile is wide enough that he’s glad he’s on his own.    
  
“Well it’s Scandals night tomorrow night, so I hope you’re ready.”   
  
Grant just huffs out some noise that hopefully sounds like he’s agreeing.    
  
“Anyway,” Chris continues, “that’s not why I’m ringing. Darren and I are having dinner the night after next, and we wondered if you wanted to come?”   
  
Chris sounds strangely high pitched, but Grant doesn’t really understand what he’s being asked.    
  
“I, uhh, I wouldn’t want to intrude?” he says, tentatively.    
  
Chris _giggles_ and Grant’s eyes flutter shut.    
  
“No, don’t be silly,” Chris says. “We just have dinner sometimes. Often after a heavy week of filming.”   
  
Grant tries to unobtrusively suck all the air back into his lungs.    
  
“Um, sure. That would be, uh, lovely,” he says and bites his lip before anything else falls out of his mouth.    
  
“Great!” Chris says brightly, and gives him a time and place before hanging up.    
  
Grant promptly collapses on the couch, managing to knock over his pile of freshly folded t-shirts. It’s only before he’s going to bed that he realises he unconsciously folded his clothes into two piles of ‘appropriate date wear’ and ‘inappropriate date wear’.    
  
  
***   
  
  
The Scandals shoot goes as swimmingly as can be expected. They get through the interior shots surprisingly quickly; apparently the crew are _really good_ now at working with multiple extras. He shimmies with Blaine a bunch of times, watches the glimpse of skin at Darren’s neck, tries not to stare at Kurt’s hips in those jeans. He gulps some water next to Darren and watches Max and Chris chat over at the bar. He wouldn’t necessarily say Max’s eyes were _roving_. But he wouldn’t necessarily say they weren’t either.    
  
Grant’s eyes drop to Chris’ ass and he concedes he is the pot calling the kettle black.    
  
Turning resolutely to Darren in an attempt to focus - after all, Sebastian wants _Blaine_ \- he is shocked to see Darren’s eyes doing the same route that his own had just completed. Max, Chris, Chris’ ass.    
  
Grant watches while Darren minutely shakes his head and turns to face him.    
  
He raises an eyebrow with Sebastian flair.    
  
Darren’s mouth drops open just a fraction. Just enough for Grant’s other eyebrow to raise.    
  
“ _Really_?” he asks delightedly.    
  
Darren flushes high up on his cheeks and he looks determinedly away.    
  
Grant’s giddy - with excitement? Relief? Jealousy? - he can’t decide. He jabs a finger into Darren’s rib cage, forcing the other man to look at him. Grant smiles, wide and taunting, and Darren’s face closes up a little further.    
  
Grant leans in then, ducking his head down to get close to Darren’s ear. “Can’t say I blame you,” he whispers just as they’re called to places.    
  
On their last take, Grant’s fiddling with his drinks at the bar, waiting for the shot to reset for Kurt and Blaine’s entrance. He watches them over at the doorway and sees Darren lean in to whisper in Chris’ ear. Chris’ eyes widen fractionally and he looks up to where Grant is. Grant’s frozen, caught out staring and unable to move. Then Chris smirks, a coy, _dirty_ smirk, and Grant swallows instinctively.    
  
He tears his gaze away just in time for the director to start the call for scene.    
  
_ Kurt and Blaine _ . _Kurt and Blaine_.    
  
  
***   
  
  
Grant wakes up the next morning with Chris’ name on his lips and an erection. It’s the beginning of a long day.    
  
After his scenes yesterday he’d stuck around to watch Chris and Darren’s scene in the car park. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.    
  
He left when Blaine pulled Kurt into the car after him on take 18.    
  
Luckily, he doesn’t have any scenes for today, so he can instead just lounge around at home and do all the errands he’s been letting pile up. He has a meeting with some Glee people next week to discuss further episodes but for now he is just going to relax in the wake of his first television shoot.    
  
Four hours later, the house is clean, groceries bought, and he’s even spent an hour or so on twitter. Of course, he can’t even say much about the shoot yet, but he loves his (few) fans.    
  
He decides it might be a good time to go through his closet. He implements a technique his mother learnt from Martha Stewart, turning all the coathangers around the wrong way so he can tell in six months what he hasn’t touched. If he spends the entire time thinking of what to wear to dinner, he concedes he’s just being practical. And efficient. Multi-tasking.    
  
Eventually, everything goes back into his closet. He can’t choose what to throw away.    
  
  
***    
  
  
The restaurant is small, cozy, and nearly empty. Grant’s grandmother would have said that’s because it wasn’t very good. He hopes that it is simply to avoid attention. Chris and Darren are already seated; he can glimpse them in the corner while he waits for a waiter. Darren sees him first and he grins widely and waves him over.    
  
Grant runs a hand over his collar one more time and heads towards them. Chris doesn’t turn.    
  
It isn’t until he’s at the table, round and quite small for three now that he sees it, that Chris acknowledges him.    
  
“Grant,” he says warmly. Grant hesitates, unsure what protocol suggests but then Chris is grabbing his hand, not shaking it, just holding it and Darren slaps him on the shoulder and pushes him into his chair.    
  
After that, things get a little easier. Grant’s still embarrassingly tongue-tied, and he occasionally catches himself staring at Chris’ lips or Darren’s tantalising neck for longer than he should. But he mostly holds himself together through the main. His composure falls apart when he takes a sip of his coffee and a foot runs up the length of his shin.    
  
He coughs hard as liquid runs down his airway and feels his eyes start to sting. _What the fuck?_   
  
Darren runs a hand soothingly over his back while Chris appears to be valiantly holding back laughter. Grant glares at him through his coughing fit until his breathing calms enough.    
  
“What was that?” he asks. “Actually, _who_ was that?”   
  
Darren and Chris exchange a look, one so intimate that Grant suddenly feels heat in his chest and knows he’s a second or two away from blushing.    
  
Darren leans forward, eyes bright.    
  
“We have a proposition for you,” he says, low and throaty.    
  
Grant’s body reacts instinctively to the tone, and he can tell his nostrils flare minutely. He has the worst poker face of anyone he knows. It’s... unfortunate.    
  
Chris brings his hand up from under the table to rest it on Darren’s. Darren unselfconsciously grabs it and strokes his fingers.    
  
“Are you two, uhh--,” Grant trails off without knowing how to finish that question.    
  
Luckily, Chris takes pity on him.    
  
“Yes,” he says, calmly but with a hint of strain that Grant hopes is just tension at this ridiculously _weird_ situation and not at him, specifically.    
  
“We’re fucking, Grant. And we want you to join us.”   
  
Grant blinks twice.    
  
He shakes his head.    
  
“You’re fucking?” he asks.    
  
Darren huffs out a laugh. “That’s not really the important part here,” he says. “We’re more interested in knowing if _you_ want to fuck _us_.”   
  
Grant swallows then, obviously, and notices that Chris’ eyes linger on his throat.    
  
“Are you for real? Am I being punk’d?” he asks frantically, despite the way his cock is already filling at just the possibility of this.    
  
Just then a hand gropes him, unceremoniously and firmly under the table. He gasps hard as the breath is forced out of him.    
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes.    
  
“I think he’s interested,” Chris says slyly.    
  
Darren laughs, loud and clear, and raises a hand for the cheque.    
  
“Time to go,” he says.    
  
  
***   
  
  
“I can’t believe I thought you were checking Chris out,” Grant moans, his head in his hands.    
  
He’s sitting in the middle seat in the back of Chris’ car, leaning forward. Darren’s in the passenger, knees tilted inwards and he’s looking at Grant with a mixture of pity and glee.    
  
“I _was_ checking him out, man. Come on, you saw his ass,” Darren says.    
  
“Right here, boys,” Chris murmurs, flicking on an indicator.    
  
“Thank god,” Darren responds.    
  
“I didn’t realise you were checking him out because you’d already seen him fucking naked,” Grant says.    
  
Darren laughs.    
  
“To be fair, I was also checking your ass out if it makes you feel better,” Chris says. Darren quirks an eyebrow.    
  
“I mean him, you idiot,” Chris asserts fondly. Darren mock pouts and Chris catches his eyes in the rearview mirror.   
  
Grant feels his cheeks flush and a heat stir low in his stomach.    
  
“Are we there yet?” he asks, and the desperation is probably all too apparent in his voice.    
  
“Mmm, he’s so eager.” Grant doesn’t know which one of them says it but it’s enough for him to sink down in his chair and hope it’s worth it.    
  
Darren leans over and places a hand on the back of Chris’ neck and looks over his arm to wink at Grant.    
  
Yeah. It’ll probably be worth it.    
  
***   
  
They stumble through the door and are in the bedroom before Grant can even take in the place. He hasn’t been inside Chris’ house before and he wanted to look around, but apparently Darren and Chris are impatient and he’s inside and pushed mercilessly onto the bed without drawing breath.    
  
He bounces on his elbows and, feeling a little surreal now that they’re in the bedroom, peers up at where the two of them are standing.    
  
“Look at you,” Chris says and his voice sends a shiver down Grant’s spine. It’s low and obviously turned on. Chris’ hand is gently stroking Darren’s side, perhaps unconsciously. A flush is slightly tinging his cheeks and Grant is mesmerised by his tongue ducking out to wet his lips. He looks _edible_ , and Grant’s half-hard just from watching him.    
  
Darren’s hands haven’t been still, running a path from Chris’ neck down to his ass and back again. After a few circulations, he pulls Chris towards him and kisses him. It’s hot, a far cry from their kisses as Kurt and Blaine, but it takes Grant back to that night on set watching the two of them go for it in the back of a car. It’s messier, less controlled - these two are older, more experienced. And Grant can tell now, now that he’s looking for it, that this isn’t the first time these two have kissed.   
  
Chris leans familiarly into Darren’s space, lips parting instinctively. They aren’t trying to hold back and Grant can glimpse tongue - Darren’s? - as Darren grips Chris’ hair and holds him closer. It’s as if _really hot_ pornography is coming to life in front of him, and Grant tries to surreptitiously adjust his trousers. Even the faintest brush of his hand against his rapidly hardening cock pulls a groan. He cuts himself off, but isn’t fast enough not to catch their attention.     
  
Darren and Chris break apart. Chris is now looking, well, debauched is the best word for it. His hair’s messy thanks to Darren’s fingers gripping it wildly, his shirt is wrinkled, and his cheeks are stained pink. In fact, the blush runs all the way down to his chest. Darren’s composure is also starting to crumble and he’s breathing a little heavier. His lips are shiny and Grant wants to taste them so badly he has to bite the inside of his cheek not to say anything.    
  
But the arousal must be clear in his eyes. Chris and Darren share a final look and then move, folding onto the bed with him, one on either side. Suddenly it’s hot, _really_ hot, and Grant feels a prickle of sweat on his spine. He wants to shrug his shirt off but aside from restaurant propositions and seductive looks in the car, he still doesn’t really know what the hell is going on.    
  
Darren puts a hand on his knee and Chris cups his jaw in one hand.    
  
“Do you really want to do this?” Chris asks.    
  
Grant nods. He’s not sure _what_ is going on, but he knows he wants to be involved. He knows, since the first day he came to set, that he wants whatever these two will give him. And this way, he doesn’t even have to choose.    
  
“We’ll only do what you want to do,” Darren says.    
  
Grant just nods again, helplessly lost in spiralling thoughts of kissing and bare skin and heat.    
  
“I think we broke him,” Chris jokes and Darren’s hand tightens a little, squeezing his knee until all of Grant’s attention is focused there.    
  
“Grant,” Darren says, and his voice is low and throaty, completely unlike Blaine. And it’s ridiculous that Grant is even thinking of their characters now, but how can he not? He’s spent the last week or so around these two, dipping in and out of high school gay boys and it seems that he can’t tear the two images apart. Especially not after discovering that they’re fucking. Just like Kurt and Blaine.    
  
“Whatever you want,” he says, finally breaking his silence. “Do whatever you want with me.”    
  
He sounds shattered, voice raw in a way he didn’t expect, and Grant swallows hard at the desperation evident. But it isn’t a turn off, apparently, as Chris groans next to him and the hand on his jaw is turning him until their lips meet.    
  
It’s immediately messy, lips slipping against each other and tongues moving lazily without finesse. It’s not the most technically skilled kiss he’s ever had, but it makes up for it in intention. It’s a promise of more to come, and Grant feels like Chris is just licking him open, tearing through his layers.    
  
Darren’s hand slips up his knee, suddenly higher and burning on his inner thigh.    
  
It reminds Grant starkly of the fact that he has an audience. That everything he does tonight has an audience, and if Chris bares him completely tonight, Darren will _see_ it.    
  
He’s unprepared for the way the thought rips through him and he groans into Chris’ mouth, suddenly and painfully hard.    
  
Chris’ hand is holding him steady but it’s not enough, it’s just a tease, so Grant dives in. He pushes harder, kisses deeper, licking at Chris’ lips and then he’s moving on, down his jaw, peppering open mouth kisses along his neck.    
  
A filthy moan erupts from Chris and it’s easily the sexiest thing Grant’s ever heard in his life. He sounds wanton and young, _so_ young like this that Grant feels hot all over.    
  
Darren shifts then and Grant blinks at the reminder of the observer. Darren’s hand has moved from his thigh and now he’s unbuttoning Grant’s shirt, fingers deft. Grant sits back, eyes drinking in the line of red he’s left behind on Chris’ skin.    
  
While he watches, Chris drops a hand to his lap and roughly palms his cock through his pants.    
  
“Fuck,” Grant says.    
  
Darren chuckles beside him, peeling open his shirt. It’s barely off his shoulders before the pair of them have their hands on his chest, smoothing lines up and down. He’s sensitive and it’s distracting, the two sets of hands distinctly different but both warm and gentle.    
  
It’s not long until he’s pressed down on the bed, Chris straddling his chest while Darren opens his pants and tugs them down his legs.    
  
“You’re so hot,” Chris says, and it’s such a basic, cheesy line but coming out of Chris’ mouth it sounds ridiculously sexy and Grant lets his hands reach up to trace around Chris’ chest and neck.    
  
His skin is soft, shockingly pale against the glimpses of Darren’s hands that reach around to peel Chris out of his shirt. Grant immediately takes advantage, gripping his now bare hips and running his hands over his nipples.    
  
Then hot heat surrounds his cock and it’s Darren, his mouth taking him in, and Grant groans loudly in shock at the sensation. Chris immediately leans down and kisses him again, that same swirling tongue licking him open and it’s so much, their two tongues on him at once.    
  
Grant rips his head away and pants out a breath.    
  
God, Darren isn’t even undressed yet.    
  
“Naked,” he says.    
  
Chris hums his approval and lifts off. It’s a graceful move and reinforces Grant’s suspicions about his flexibility. But he soon forgets about that as Chris makes fast work of Darren’s clothes, pulling his cock out first with a raised eyebrow at Grant before swiftly removing the rest. Darren returns the favour, tugging at Chris’ pants until they slide down and Chris pushes his briefs down.    
  
Then they’re both there facing each other and Darren’s reaching greedily for Chris’ cock, clearly familiar with the length of him. But Chris just laughs softly, and drops to his knees.    
  
“Want a show, Grant?” he asks in that breathy voice of his that Grant’s beginning to realise is his aroused voice.    
  
And with that, he licks over the head of Darren’s cock twice until Grant can see it glistening, and then swallows him down fast and smooth. Darren’s hands go straight for Chris’ hair and his own head falls back baring the long line of his neck. Chris is obviously talented, licking up and down the shaft. It’s not like in the porn that Grant’s watched, on occasion; there's less visible tongues and rough thrusting. Instead Darren’s poised straight, holding his hips incredibly still, not moaning except for when he sighs Chris’ name out reverently.    
  
Chris pulls off, replaces his mouth with his hand, and looks directly at Grant. His lips are red, a little swollen, and Grant realises he’s stroking himself when the heat in his groin sparks insistently.    
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Grant says and drops his hand with difficulty.    
  
Chris’ hand has stilled now, Darren’s hips moving minutely, searching for friction.    
  
“I want to fuck you,” Chris says, and Grant flicks his eyes back to his face in time to realise this was directed at him.    
  
He huffs out a loud breath, obvious in the quiet room.    
  
“I, uh--, oh _god_ ,” he manages.    
  
“Have you ever?” Chris asks, gently but not condescendingly.    
  
Grant shakes his head.    
  
“Would you like me to fuck you?”    
  
Grant bites his lip and considers. He’s fucked a guy before, once. And he loves blowjobs, giving and receiving. He’s fucked women too. He’s just never been penetrated. Never wanted it, really. Never seen the point.    
  
But now, looking at Chris and the inherent strength in his lithe frame, the way Darren’s strung out but still so _careful_ , so _still,_ only moving when he’s told to....  He knows that Chris will take care of him.    
  
He nods once, the message clear.    
  
“Okay,” Chris says, nodding in return. He lets go of Darren, ignoring the slight noise of protest. Instead he moves to the bedside table, pulls out a couple of condoms and a bottle of lube. It’s a big bottle and Grant tries not to think too closely about how often he uses it.    
  
Chris settles himself on his knees next to Grant then, and pats the end of the bed for Darren. It puts Darren at his feet, and Grant shifts slightly to accommodate him. Chris puts out a hand, stilling his movement.    
  
“I want you there, Darren,” he says, and his voice is calm despite his obvious erection and flushed skin.    
  
Darren moves in between his legs, hands on his ankles, and Grant feels his breath quicken against his will.    
  
“Dare’s going to get you ready for me,” Chris says. “Would you like that?”    
  
Grant’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, throat dry.    
  
He nods again. Apparently he has lost the power of speech.    
  
“He’s really good at this, don’t worry,” Chris says, and gives Darren a fond look. Darren grins widely in return, grabs the lube bottle in one hand, and ducks his head down.    
  
“I’m going to lick you open for him ‘til you’re screaming,” he says, cocky enough to make Grant’s cock twitch interestedly.    
  
“Challenge?” Grant manages to squeak out. He was going for snarky, but suspects he just sounded desperate.    
  
“Of course,” Darren smirks and then he’s breathing gently over his hole.    
  
Grant’s eyes slide shut at the feel of tongue. It’s different, something he’s never tried before. _Wet_. Darren’s gentle, tonguing carefully at the rim of muscle, but his hands are gripping Grant’s thighs tightly. It’s grounding, feeling the points of pressure under his fingers in such contrast to the lapping heat. His cock is hard, straining against his stomach, and he can’t help the little aborted thrusts his hips try to make.    
  
Darren hums - of _course_ he hums, Grant thinks wryly - and the sound vibrates through his skin, sending Grant’s sensitive nerves out of control. He vaguely recognises that he’s gasping.    
  
The tongue disappears and he distantly hears the noise of the bottle cap and realises that Darren must be coating his fingers. To use on _him_. The idea has him shivering, uncertain and nervous, but Darren still has one hand on his thighs so he focuses on that.    
  
Suddenly, Chris has a hand on his jaw and is leaning into his body to kiss him again. It’s immediately filthy; Chris is making quiet noises against his lips and is gripping his jaw tightly in a strange type of synchronisation to Darren’s hand on his thigh.    
  
It’s hot and wet, and then Darren starts to work his finger in, and Chris nips at his bottom lip. Grant groans loudly, far louder than he ever gets during sex, and Chris takes advantage and licks into his open mouth.    
  
“You guys look so hot,” Darren mumbles, and Chris breaks away briefly. Grant lifts his head enough to see Darren in between his legs, can feel two fingers (when did it get to two?) pushing inside him effortlessly. Darren’s face is flushed, and Grant can glimpse his cock curled against his stomach and Darren clutches his thigh just a little harder.    
  
“Stop looking like that,” Darren says, nearly a whimper this time.    
  
Chris chuckles. “He gets so turned on by being watched.”   
  
Grant smiles and deliberately lets his gaze drift across Darren’s body, drinking in the tense muscles in his arms as he twists his fingers deliberately against Grant’s prostate.    
  
The sudden spike in pleasure causes Grant’s head to fall back and Chris is on him instantly, licking a line along his neck, sucking at a spot next to his throat.    
  
Darren is apparently relentless, and Grant feels another finger slide in, stretching him tightly. It feels like pressure, _so much_ pressure. He can feel it in his stomach, his balls, his fucking chest.    
  
Then Chris has his hand on his cock, slowly stroking long movements up and down and it’s just enough to distract him and take the edge of. He sighs in relief, feels his body settle into the more familiar movement and therefore it takes him a while to realise he’s rocking into Chris’ fist and back onto Darren’s fingers until Darren groans “ _fuck_ , just like that,” and slides a fourth finger in.    
  
“I’m gonna--, stop, stop--,” he says, but he can’t stop himself from clenching down tightly around Darren’s fingers and then Darren’s moaning and Chris is gripping him tightly around the base.    
  
“No,” he says firmly, and Grant’s body just seizes, and then stills.    
  
“You are going to come with me inside you,” Chris says and his voice isn’t high any more, it’s low and dark, and Grant feels like he can’t catch his breath, can’t do anything but listen and obey.    
  
He nods, eagerly, and Darren gently withdraws his fingers. Grant can’t help but sigh at the empty feeling left behind, but then Darren’s crawling up and over him, settling his weight across Grant’s hips and kissing him.    
  
“So good, Grant,” he murmurs into Grant’s ear, licking at the lobe. “Felt so good.”   
  
Grant gasps as Darren grinds down, feels their cocks rub against each other and _fuck_ , he cannot come yet.    
  
Chris shoves at Darren’s hip until he shifts, grumbling a little.    
  
“I want you to suck him off, if you can,” Chris says and Darren nods, gets comfortable on his knees.    
  
Grant just waits.    
  
Chris lays down next to him, but sits up a little against the headboard. He’s positioned some pillows around him and then he opens his arms.    
  
“Come here, on top,” Chris says and Grant awkwardly maneuvers himself where Chris positions him until he’s on top of Chris, facing away. It feels a little like a scene Grant knows they cut in porn films, the one just before the actors start fucking.    
  
He has to hold himself up a little so as not to crush Chris, and to be honest, he doesn’t think it’s the most comfortable position to be in. Before he can say anything though, Chris is pushing his covered cock slowly but surely into Grant. Darren’s on his knees to the side, watching closely with one hand curled around his erection, pumping slowly.    
  
It’s different, even bigger than Darren’s fingers, and solid. There’s no give and at first it’s almost unbearable, so stretched and impossible to ignore. It doesn’t hurt so much as _fill_ and he needs it to stop, to get away. Until he doesn’t. Until it feels smooth and thorough, Chris sliding in and out in almost soothing strokes.    
  
He’s tense still, his stomach muscles clenching and his arms already starting to ache a little from holding himself. He nearly loses it when Darren gets a hand on his cock, encouraging it to fill again until it’s hard and thick. Two strokes in and he’s leaking and that’s when Darren leans in to touch the tip of his tongue to the head.    
  
“Uhhhh,” is the only noise he can make and Chris snaps his hips up harder, faster, until Darren’s struggling to keep his grip and somehow it’s the lack of rhythm that gets him. Darren leans closer, tongue darting out, Chris strokes up quickly, angling just right and hitting his prostrate, and that’s it, he's surrounded by heat everywhere and he’s done. He chokes out a noise and comes, pulsing over Darren’s hand and tongue and face. Grant wants to be embarrassed - he just came on Darren’s _face_ \- but instead he finds himself watching transfixed as Darren lick at his lips while he rubs him through the last of it, his other hand now frantic on his own cock.    
  
Chris is panting heavily now, and Grant realises his hands are lifting Grant's hips up and pulling him down on his cock. Grant moans at the overstimulation as Chris continues to fuck him, made even worse when Darren presses a finger against where they’re joined. He traces the rim of muscles, feels Chris’ cock, and then promptly whines and comes all over himself, drops streaking across Grant’s hip.    
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he hears Chris say, hot and breathy underneath him, and then Darren leans over with one come-covered hand. Grant feels him brush against him briefly and then moves further down. Grant thinks he must slip those talented fingers into Chris’ ass because Chris keens a high-pitched noise in his ear, pulls Grant’s hips down hard and holds him there until Grant feels the slightest hint of warmth in his ass, the pulsing of Chris' cock making his own twitch.    
  
A second later, Chris collapses, his spent cock slipping out of Grant’s stretched ass. Darren helps him roll off, falling face down on the bed next to Chris. He closes his eyes and just breathes, taking in the sore muscles as his body slowly unclenches.    
  
He feels fucking fantastic.    
  
After a moment, Darren mops him up with tissues or a cloth or something and then manhandles him under the covers.    
  
Chris is snuggled up on one side and Darren on the other, their hands joining on his back. He can feel the way their fingers interweave.    
  
He’s tired, _so_ tired, but his brain latches on - as it always does - to his insecurities.    
  
“I can go,” he mumbles into the pillow and trying determinedly to ignore the thrumming in his heart. “I know you two are a thing, I can go.”   
  
Darren shoves him until he’s on his side facing Chris, and then slings an arm across his waist and shuffles in to spoon his back.    
  
“Stay,” Darren says softly, his toes tucking up behind Grant’s knees.    
  
Grant blinks slowly at Chris, who’s looking at him with an unbearably open expression. It’s soft but he’s smiling, and Grant suddenly feels exposed - more exposed than when he was being fucked open in a threesome moments ago.    
  
“We want you to stay,” Chris says, and that’s enough for Grant’s eyes to slip closed again. He knows that’s not enough, not really, but for now it’s okay. It’s more than okay.    
  
He vaguely feels a kiss at the corner of his mouth and then one on the back of his neck before succumbing to sleep, cocooned and warm by the two bodies either side. 


End file.
